


Airs Above The Ground

by Ravanne



Series: Airs Above The Ground [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Eventual Kurtbastian, Horses, M/M, Not Rachel Friendly, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:01:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25840006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravanne/pseuds/Ravanne
Summary: A love story between a boy and his horse as Kurt faces the challenges of his life as a competitive equestrian with the Summer Olympics looming.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe
Series: Airs Above The Ground [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875004
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that I've had in development for quite some time and I wanted to start putting it out there. To start off, I need to put out a disclaimer that while I've been riding since I was a kid, I do not own my own horse and I'm not a competitive rider. But I am a great fan of the sport and while I'm playing a bit fast and loose with how the Olympic team is selected for the equestrian sports, I'm being very careful with all other aspects of training and scoring. 
> 
> And there will be a romantic relationship for Kurt with Sebastian somewhere down the road, but that is a much smaller aspect of this story. The primary focus will be on Kurt himself and his career in the sport.

It was moments like this when Kurt felt most alive, when he would almost feel as if he were flying. The crowd watching became a distant blur and all that mattered was the warm sun shining on his back and the muscled surging of his mount as the horse’s hooves left the ground and they soared over the jump. Kurt leaned low over his horse’s neck, using his body to urge Pavarotti into the jump and then eased his weight back as Pav’s front hooves connected with the turf. Once he felt his horse balanced on the ground, he focused them on the course, only dimly aware of the cheers around them for the successful jump.

It wasn’t the most challenging cross-country course they’d faced, but the designers had set up a number of interesting tricks along the way so that it was easy to get hung up if he weren’t paying attention. It was a course designed to test the skill and judgment of the riders, the scope and endurance of the horses they rode and how well they worked together as a team. It was what Kurt Hummel absolutely lived for. He had complete confidence in his horse being able to handle the numerous obstacles that awaited them and his own skill to navigate them through safely.

He focused his attention on the next set of jumps ahead of them; a trio of arrowheads that were narrow enough to run past if he lost focus or if his horse wasn’t aligned directly towards them. Kurt watched their approach carefully and once he was certain that they were lined up properly, urged Pavarotti into the jump. The dapple grey gelding neatly leaped over the first jump with ease, and then quickly gathered himself for the second and third. Once they were past the trio, Kurt urged him to pick up his pace as they galloped along the downward slope that would take them to the big water jump.

Facing them was a large bullfinch fence that hid the open pool of water behind it, and Kurt knew from walking the course the day before that it was a pretty significant drop behind the fence. Pavarotti would not be able to see the landing until after they’d passed over the fence, but they had ridden courses like this for several years now and Kurt was confident in Pavarotti’s trust in him. Knowing that to hesitate would only impact on his month’s confidence, Kurt urged him forward, balancing himself and shifting his weight as they soared over the fence. He gave Pavarotti’s his head as the decent seemed to last forever before they splashed down into the pond. 

Kurt immediately balanced his weight in the saddle and turned Pavarotti to jump the dolphin-shaped obstacle at the center of the pond before guiding the horse to the raised bank where a solid leap put them back on dry ground while the crowd watching applauded them. Pavarotti snorted as they charged up the slope towards a series of jumps where the terrain presented its own challenge. There were some horses that hated jumping on such unlevel ground and the riders had the choice of approaching the jumps directly or circling around to approach the jumps from a more level position.

“Come on, Pav,” Kurt urged, pressing with his leg to ask his horse to pick up his pace. Pavarotti snorted as they surged up the incline and then with a powerful heave, carried them over the first jump. Kurt quickly brought Pavarotti around to face the rolltop fence, the horse powering over it and sending them galloping down the straightaway towards the last series of jumps.

“Good boy!” Kurt praised, patting the horse on his neck as he urged him down the track. He quickly glanced at his stopwatch, pleased at their time. They were doing extremely well and so far hadn’t accumulated any significant penalties. He could afford to keep Pavarotti’s pace steady and they would finish the course neatly within the time limit. Sailing nearly effortlessly over another brush jump, Kurt focused his attention on the last set of obstacles awaiting them down the track.

Most horses by this stage were tiring and he knew that many of the other riders who’d gone ahead of him were having some difficulty with the last set of jumps, several suffering run bys that cost them valuable time. Or worse, outright refusals. It would be easy to get tripped up right at the end and be put out of the running for a top placement.

Kurt knew his horse. Pavarotti was running well and he was in excellent physical condition. He had the scope to handle the challenging jumps, and Kurt knew that he had plenty of juice left in him. Clearing the final obstacles would put them in an excellent position going into the jumping trial.

Pressing his leg into Pavarotti’s side, Kurt leaned in and asked his horse for one final effort.

* * * 

Kurt bit back a yawn as he opened the door to his house. They had gotten back hours later than he planned, having run into heavy traffic on their way back from the field trials. By the time they got the horses unloaded and settled for the night, it was already after dark. As least Schue took mercy on them and held off on their usual post-competition debriefing until the next day, sending his riders home with an admonishment to get some rest.

Kurt walked into his house and dropped the heavy bag containing his riding gear next to the stairs so he could sort through his clothes for the laundry after he ate. Placing the silver trophy on the breakfast bar, he turned his attention to the refrigerator, hoping to find something that wouldn’t take too much effort to prepare.

“Kurt, is that you?” His father called from up the stairs.

“Hi Dad,” Kurt answered tiredly. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, not seeing anything in the fridge that tempted him. He hated when he was too tired to even eat.

His father stepped into the kitchen and pulled his son into a warm hug. “Glad to have you home,” he said. “You’re late.”

“It took us longer to get the horses taken care of,” Kurt explained. “There was an accident on the interstate that really snarled up traffic. We didn’t get to the barn until after dark.”

“Did you eat yet?”

Kurt shook his head tiredly. “We didn’t have a chance to grab anything.” It was more important that they got the tired horses stabled and fed when they finally got to the barn. That was a hard rule that their coach always insisted on. Whatever else was going on, the welfare of their horses always came first.

“Well, there’s not much in the house right now,” his father said apologetically. “How about I order in some Chinese? Or a pizza?”

“Chinese would be great. Thanks.” Kurt sat down heavily at the breakfast bar and rested his head on his arms. He dimly heard his father calling in the food order, noting that a lot more food than Kurt needed was being ordered and his father was getting his favorites.

After hanging up the phone, his father looked down at his exhausted son. “Should be here in about twenty minutes. Think you can stay awake that long?”

Kurt nodded, not picking up his head.

Burt picked up the trophy and smiled when he read the inscription. “Second place. That’s really great! I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there.”

Kurt lifted his head tiredly, smiling slightly at his father’s excitement. He knew that he was fortunate to have a parent as invested in his career as his father was, even if he wasn’t able to attend as many competitions as he had a business to run. Kurt had called him immediately after the award ceremony to let him know how he placed but knew that a big deal would be made about his showing once he’d gotten home.

“It was a great competition. I always liked this event,” Kurt insisted. “Some really fantastic riders there this time.”

“Who came in first?” his father asked, putting the trophy down on the counter. They would have to find a place for it later in the cabinet that was overflowing with ribbons and trophies from Kurt’s competitions over the years.

“St. James,” Kurt yawned. “He’s going to be a shoe in for the national team if he continues on the way he’s been riding.”

“And you came in second? Against someone like him?” Burt whistled in astonishment. “That must have been a hell of a ride by you.”

His son smiled, knowing full well that he should be very proud of his accomplishment. “Pav was amazing. You should have seen him during the jumping trial. He’s never been better.”

“I wish could have seen it, but I’m sure that Pav had some help,” Burt reminded him. “You need to stop selling yourself short all the time. Didn’t that magazine of yours name you as one of the top young riders last year?”

Kurt shrugged, having not taking that acknowledgement so seriously. It was right after his first competition at the Kentucky trials where he came in twentieth out of a field of fifty riders. Not even close to winning, but he completed the competition and was the youngest rider to finish in the top 20. Practical Horseman magazine ran a small profile of him in their coverage of the event, pegging him as one to watch in the future. It was after the Kentucky event that he had been advised that he was on the long list for possible consideration for the team heading to the Antwerp Olympic Games.

“How did Rachel do?” Burt asked, unable to resist wanting to know how Kurt’s biggest rival in the barn did.

“She came in twelfth, I think,” Kurt yawned. He tried not to worry about how Rachel was placing unless she was ahead of him. While in the past they had been more evenly matched, Kurt had been surpassing her; at least as far as the cross country and jumping trials went. She was still beating his scores in the dressage test, much to his frustration.

“Ha!” Burt laughed, not bothering to hide his glee.

“Dad… not nice,” Kurt reprimanded, though he did smile tiredly.

“I know,” Burt chuckled. “But you can’t ask me not to feel some satisfaction given how she walks around with her nose in the air with you.”

The doorbell rang, heralding the arrival of Kurt’s late dinner. He was glad when his father went to pay the delivery man, giving Kurt a chance to hopefully change the focus of conversation. He didn’t want beating Rachel to always be the focus of his accomplishments, but it was hard not to feel a huge amount of satisfaction when he did. After so many years of having her looking down her nose at him because he didn’t have the financial advantages she did, coming ahead of her on a regular basis was more than a little satisfying.

His father returned with a large bag filled with cardboard containers. “I think I ordered too much,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Don’t think that will be a problem,” Kurt chuckled as he got plates down from the cabinet. “I’m sure that Finn will be more than happy to clear up the leftovers when he gets home.”


	2. Chapter 2

Over the past years, mornings had come to be Kurt’s favorite time of the day even though by nature he was at best a reluctant morning person. Through habit, he woke every morning before five o’clock, including his weekends. But it took multiple splashes of cold water to his face and at least two cups of coffee before he was at all functional and able to drive himself down to the barn. It was a trait that he inherited from his father, who often needed to be physically hauled out of bed when Kurt was younger and needed to be driven to his lessons.

But mornings brought those wonderful, quiet moments, before the other riders began to arrive for lessons and training. Back when money was tight for his family, Kurt would muck stalls before school in order to help pay for his lessons. He’d actually enjoyed those times, having a chance to be around the horses without any distractions. He never shied away from the physical work of mucking and grooming since it allowed him what he loved most; to be in the saddle.

Mr. Schue had been exceedingly generous in teaching Kurt not just riding, but all the concerns of running a barn and all aspects of equine care. Over the years, he’d cleaned more stalls than he dared try to count, learned to clean and repair tack and managed the feed schedule. He’d helped stow bales of hay, assist the farrier and helped nurse sick horses through the night.

Now thankfully he had only his own horse to care for so he wasn’t required to arrive so early, but then he would miss this quiet time that he very much enjoyed. Despite often sorely missing that extra hour or so of sleep, he deemed it a small price to pay.

Knowing that the hard work he’d put in over the weekend, Pavarotti would want nothing to do with him unless Kurt showed up with his breakfast in hand, his first stop was at the feed room to mix up the horse’s morning ration. He checked the white board to see what supplements Pav was due and added the vitamin powders into the mixture of sweet feed. He also prepared the feed for Pavarotti’s stable mate, not wanting his old mount to feel neglected.

Walking into the barn, he immediately gained the attention of the residents there as they roused from sleep. Horses peeked out from their stalls to see who had arrived. People arriving meant breakfast, and he would swear that he saw a few of them giving genuine sighs of disappointment when they saw that it wasn’t their usual grooms or riders coming to tend to them. They would have to wait a bit longer. Kurt chuckled and headed towards the last two stalls in the line, carrying the feed buckets with an ease that came with years of practice.

He loved everything about this barn. Maybe it wasn’t the biggest or the fanciest facility and some of the fixtures were showed signs of wear from horses having chewed on them. But it was warm and comfortable for the horses that were stabled there. He found the smell of straw and leather and horses to be one of the most comforting scents in the world and being in the barn immediately put him at ease. He loved having the coach that he did, and he enjoyed the company of nearly everyone who trained there. It was a wonderful place to be training in and he couldn’t imagine having progressed as well as he had if his parents had been able to afford sending him to a fancier barn. He was lucky to be there.

The first stall he stopped at housed a handsome chestnut gelding who nickered happily at his arrival. Winchester wasn’t a young horse any longer and there were some white hairs sprinkled in his glossy coat, but he was still very fit. The old schoolmaster had been retired from competition but his days were still busy, spent teaching the newest riders at the barn. His quiet, calm disposition carried even the most nervous students through their first lessons as they learned the preliminaries, just as he had carried Kurt so long ago.

Kurt unlatched the door and stepped inside, the older horse happily greeting him with a quiet familiarity. “Good boy,” Kurt said gently, scratching the horse under his mane. “I’ve got your breakfast right here.” He dumped the grain into the trough and the gelding happily dove into his meal, contentedly snorting as he chewed the molasses-coated grains.

There were times when Kurt missed riding Winchester, and he believed that the horse actually missed the excitement of competition. He still had a full work program as a lessons horse and he was a favorite with the younger riders, but it was a schedule that didn’t stress him overmuch. At his age, Winchester more than earned the right to take it easy and Kurt owed him a great deal. Making sure that Winchester got fed first was hardly a sacrifice given that Kurt wouldn’t be the rider he was without the old horse’s kind guidance.

A loud whinny from the stall next door got Kurt’s attention. Pavarotti had been tolerant enough while Kurt saw to his old friend, but his patience had come to an end. He’d worked hard the past few days and endured long trailer rides, and he deserved to be fed without delay. He kicked the stall door, making his displeasure known.

“All right! I’m coming. Shesh… keep your hooves on,” Kurt said as he closed Winchester’s stall and carried the second bucket to his own horse. He’d barely poured the grain into the trough when the big gray horse shouldered him aside to get at the feed.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt groused, rubbing his arm where the horse had pushed him. “Nice to see that your manners haven’t improved.”

Pavarotti only grunted as he chewed the grain happily.

While the horses ate, Kurt set about his chores. He’d muck Pav’s stall after letting his horse out to the pasture, but they had rushed to get things settled last night because they arrived home so late and he’d left his tack on the trailer. It took several trips to carry the two saddles and other assorted gear to the tack room where he spent a good hour cleaning things and checking for any signs of wear or damage before getting Pav’s tack stored away properly. He then went to Schue’s office to check the lesson schedule for the day.

He found his coach already at his desk, hard at work doing all the paperwork it took to keep the barn running. Kurt was very fond of Schue, knowing how lucky he’d been when his parents picked this barn for him to take lessons at. William Schuester ran a good operation and excelled and developing young riders. He had taken Kurt under his wing and brought him up from being a total novice to a nationally ranked competitive rider.

“Hey Kurt,” he greeted. “You’re here early.”

“Wanted to get my gear sorted before lessons started. And I didn’t have a chance to check the schedule last night,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to be late if I had an early class.”

Schue smiled. “I didn’t schedule your first lessons until ten. I thought you might want to sleep in a little. I should have known better,” he admitted playfully.

Kurt helped himself to a cup of coffee from the pot in his coach’s office. “It’s okay. I wanted to get Pav taken care of. I’ll throw him and Winchester out in the field in a little bit. What do I have?”

“Beginner jumping group at ten, and then you’ll be working with Connie in the dressage field at noon. I also gave you the group beginner lesson at two, if that’s okay.”

Kurt nodded. He didn’t mind the group lessons, as he earned more than the individual lessons.

“I also penciled you in at five to go over your performance and discuss your schooling for the next few weeks,” Schue advised. “We’ll meet after the event debriefing at four.”

“Perfect,” Kurt agreed, finishing his coffee. “I’d better go see to the nags and let them get some fresh air. If I’ve got some free time tomorrow, I’ll take Pav out for a ride and let him stretch his legs. Maybe I’ll do one of the group lessons out on the trail. Let them get some experience outside the ring.”

“Good idea,” Schue agreed, making a note to add it to the schedule. He smiled at his student as the younger man moved towards the door. “By the way Kurt… brilliant riding yesterday. Coming in second to St. James? Absolutely fantastic.”

“Thanks,” Kurt smiled gratefully, feeling very pleased over his performance. He had a feeling that his coach was going to push him into entering the Rolex trials again this year, and put himself in competition with the really big names in the sport.

By the time he returned to the stable, the morning routine was in full swing as other riders arrived to see to their horses. Horses were being fed, stalls were being mucked and riders were preparing for the days work. Kurt brought Pav out to give him a quick grooming before leading him and Winchester out to the west pasture for turn out. It was warm enough that they didn’t need to be rugged and if Kurt knew his horse, the first thing he’d be doing would be rolling in the grass. Which meant that he’d be giving Pav a bath later.

The day got busy for him after that, managing the lessons that Schue had lined up for him. Since rising to compete in the advanced classes, he was given increasing responsibility in teaching new riders the basics. Most were children, but it wasn’t unusual for him to get adults who were new to riding and discovered a passion for horses later in life. He enjoyed the work and he was able to earn enough, along with his job at his father’s garage, to cover his expenses and Pav’s board. It certainly paid a lot better than mucking stalls did.

It was frustrating when he would see Rachel swan in to work with her horses, not having to worry about earning a living in order to pay for her sport, but Kurt honestly thought that he himself improved as a rider as a result. By working with novice riders, it forced him to focus a lot on the fundamentals of riding that were critical for the advanced skills he needed. It was so easily to get sloppy if you weren’t constantly practicing the basics and teaching proper form to younger riders allowed Kurt to keep those fundamentals in practice.

Sure, it took time away from his own training, but he couldn’t complain about things. It was hard enough for a kid from a family that wasn’t particularly wealthy to be competitive at the level he was riding at, so between his father letting him work at the garage and Schue taking him on as a riding instructor, it made his competitive career possible.

It hadn’t always been this easy, Kurt remembered. Especially after his mother died, when there were hospital bills to pay and his father was barely keeping his business above water. They had come very close to having to stop Kurt’s riding lessons, but Schue had come through for them in a huge way. Sure, it meant Kurt arriving early every day in order to muck stalls and do other chores around the barn until things got better for the Hummels, but it kept him in the saddle. Now that he was done with high school and able to work nearly full time, Kurt was able to pay his own way in the sport that he loved.

The lessons that day all went well. He especially enjoyed working with Connie. She was a really talented young rider and would likely make the move into the intermediate level of competition in the next few months. After he finished up with the last group class, he went to the pasture to collect Pav and Winchester, the two horses coming to him willingly since they knew it was nearly time for their evening feed.

Once the horses were settled in their stalls, he did his final chores for the afternoon and then headed over to the team debriefing. Schue held regular weekly meetings with the group because as much as they were competing as individuals and focusing on their own development, he wanted to foster a sense of the group as a team as well. He used these meetings to give them news or make announcements, or as in this case to review the results of the past competition. They’d then all have the chance to meet with Schue on their own to discuss training specifics.

Rachel was there first, seated in the best chair in the room. Kurt found a seat across the room from her, not wanting to be too close to his rival. He had taken enough of her temper yesterday on the way home when she was still smarting over her lackluster showing. Kurt could understand her frustration and having her progression seem to stall at this stage of her riding career.

Rachel and Kurt both shared great ambitions in their sport and Rachel had a lot of significant advantages that rightly would help with her growth as a rider. There was a time when Kurt would have been jealous of her having two horses to work with and never having to scrounge for money to replace worn gear, but those days were long in the past. He was no longer worried about trying to match her when he was doing so well on his own. But apparently Rachel didn’t get the memo that it wasn’t always a contest between them.

Schue came into the room with the binder that he used to keep track of his competitive riders and everyone fell quiet. “Good to see everyone here,” he stated, sitting down. He balanced the binder on his knee and opened it. “First of all, I really need to commend everyone here for their excellent riding over the past few days. We had no falls or eliminations and everyone received their points for completing the competition, so good job!

“Jeffrey took third place in our novice group and Peter came in eighth in the intermediate class,” Schue announced proudly. “Peter, since this was your first competition in the intermediate group that is a tremendous accomplishment.”

The group in the room applauded the younger riders, Kurt grinning happily for them. They were both extremely talented and Kurt had a feeling that they would continue to mature in leaps and bounds if they kept in the sport.

“For our advanced riders, Alan came in sixteenth which is excellent given that he’s coming back from an injury, Rachel came in twelfth. And lastly Kurt… second place.”

The group gave a loud cheer at the results and applauded loudly. Schue chuckled at the noise, waiting for the din to die down before he continued.

“I’m going to meet with everyone in the next day or so and we’re going to refine your training schedules for the next few weeks. We have several competitions coming up in the next few months and we’ll be going over which events each of you will be looking to ride in. Kurt and Rachel… both of you need to think about the Kentucky trials again. In the meantime… let’s open the floor if anyone has any questions.”

The next few minutes were spent with Schue answering questions about the results, especially for the younger riders. This was still quite new to some of them and they were just starting to get a sense of how to judge their actual performances. Winning ribbons was all well and good, but even placing well outside of the top group was important if the competition was particularly difficult. Kurt had no illusions that he would be able to beat a rider like St. James without a huge stroke of luck on his side.

Rachel swiftly moved to monopolize the Q&A, not happy with her placement in the competition and not able to see that she had actually ridden quite well. She only saw the lack of a ribbon and Schue assured her that they would go into detail over the results during their private meeting. Kurt sympathized with their coach, because managing the expectations of his students when they felt they weren’t doing well was never enjoyable. There had been many times when Schue needed to talk him off the ledge when Kurt felt that he wasn’t progressing the way he expected to.

Kurt found Schue in his office at his meeting time on the phone. Schue motioned for him to sit down as he finished his call and then turned his full attention on Kurt. “Sorry about that. Needed to make sure that our hay shipment arrives tomorrow.”

Kurt smiled, knowing better than most just how much work Schue put into running the barn. There were so many things to keep track of, like making sure there was enough in the feed barn for the month and dealing with all sorts of emergencies that always managed to pop up at the least opportune times.

“No worries,” Kurt assured him, taking a seat. “I’ll round up some of the guys tomorrow to help get it into the storeroom when the truck arrives.”

His coach smiled, glad for Kurt’s consideration as it meant one less thing for him to take care of. “We got a call today while you were doing your lessons,” Schue advised him. “I guess that they tried to reach you at home and on your cell phone, but I know you always have it turned off when you’re teaching,”

Kurt nodded. “I didn’t have a chance to check my voice mails before the team meeting,” he admitted.

“I don’t know if you’ve been keeping an eye on the national team selection.”

“Just rumors,” Kurt admitted. “I’ve been trying not to let it distract me too much but I’m curious to see who makes the team this year.”

“Well, prepare to be distracted,” Schue warned him. “That call was from the selection committee. You and Pav are officially on the short list.”

Kurt felt his breath catch in his throat. “I… seriously?”

“You’ll be getting the official letter in a week or so, but as of now, you’re riding for a place on the Olympic team.” Schue’s smile widened as he saw the news really sink in. “Weren’t expecting that, were you?” he teased.

Kurt shook his head. “Not at all, I thought it was crazy when I made the long list. This is… wow…”

“Kurt, you are an exceptionally talented rider. And you’ve been proving it over the past two years. You’re more than capable of riding with some of the best on the circuit and it’s been noticed.”

“But I’m not even twenty,” Kurt insisted, his mind mentally racing to calculate the number of months to that milestone. Most of the top riders in the country were easily ten and twenty years his senior, and had multiple horses to compete on. He knew that he was badly outclassed and it seemed almost ludicrous for him to even be considered for a spot on the national team when there were so many more experienced riders out there.

Schue sighed, running a hand through his curly hair. “I’m not going to try to figure out all the ins and outs of how they’re making the selection. Yes, there are more experienced riders out there, but don’t sell yourself short. You have an enormous amount of talent and you’ve got a terrific horse. The two of you have been proving yourselves over the past few years. You’ve been placing well in some very high level competitions, so you’ve been showing that you’re capable of competing at an elite level.

“We’re going to keep this in the back of our minds for the time being,” Schue stated, as much to reassure his student and to address the practicalities of the situation. “I don’t want you to obsess over it, but we need to keep this as a consideration as we pick your competitions for the season. You’re going to have a lot of people watching your performances at events until the final selection is made and the pressure can be a lot to deal with on top of trying to ride your best. I want you to be ready for it.”

“Well, given that I’ve got about as much realistic chance of making the team as a Winchester winning the Kentucky Derby, I think I should be okay,” Kurt quipped. It was absurd, him being considered as a serious prospect at this stage of his career.

“We’ll keep up on your jumping training, but I really want to focus on dressage,” Schue stated, making some notations in his binder. “You’re still somewhat underperforming in that area and we want to get your scores up a bit. So we’ll go from three to four sessions a week. Sound good?”

Kurt nodded.

“You’re already entered in the field trials next month, but after that I think we need to concentrate on the higher level competitions for you. Going to Kentucky this year is essential, and I also want you entered at Richland Park and Fair Hills,” Schue advised. “Let’s not waste your time and travel budget on events that won’t get the selection committee’s attention.”

Schue paused, looking up thoughtfully. “Kurt… how do you want to break the news to the rest of the team? It’s not something that we’ll be able to keep under wraps forever. There are going to be visits to the barn to watch you train and someone is sure to see something mentioned on the internet. Sooner or later, they’re going to figure that something is up.”

Kurt inhaled deeply, honestly taken aback by the question. “I kind of was hoping to keep things quiet,” he admitted.

“I know, but this is going to come out. It’s going to be impossible to hide all the visitors and you know that the selection committee is going to talk to people here at the barn. It’s best for us to control how they get the news, but I won’t do anything without your approval,” Schue promised.

Kurt knew that he had to tell the rest of the team and he was sure that most of them would be delighted and excited for him, as well as being supportive when he was inevitably rejected. The one exception would be Rachel. She would, unquestionably, be resentful over him being even considered for the team. And when he was rejected? Her gloating would be unbearable.

He had to play his cards close to his vest with her. Show too much excitement now would only give her more ammunition to use on his later. “Maybe at the next team meeting?” he suggested. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of this.”

Schue nodded. “Okay… but I hate to break it to you, Kurt. It is a big deal. Even if you don’t make the team, just being seriously considered is enormous at this stage of your career.”

“Maybe, but I’ll save getting excited if I actually make the team,” Kurt stated.

Schue gave him an appraising stare, as if trying to figure out what was going on in his student’s head and then gave up on arguing the point. “Then that’s it. Go home and give your dad the news. I’m sure that he’ll be thrilled even if you want to play the cool cucumber right now. In the meantime, you and me… tomorrow morning at nine in the dressage field.”

“Yes sir,” Kurt quipped, giving his coach a jaunty salute as he walked out of the office. He got his gear from the tack room and checked his voice mail, finding the message from the selection committee. He waited until he got to his Jeep before calling them back and it became official. He was now a prospective Olympian.

He needed the drive home to try to collect his thoughts and get his emotions sorted. Despite the air of indifference he tried to cultivate with Schue, he did realize just how huge this was for him. Kurt had never expected to rise to the levels that he has in competition. Any of the equestrian sports were painfully expensive and Kurt has been completely self-financed for the whole of his competitive career. Literally every penny he earned was spent on Pav’s care, his training and expenses of competing. His father helped as much as he could, but Kurt had been strictly limited on how many events he could afford to compete in, and how far he could travel to them. Most of the other top riders in the country were either wealthy in their own right, or professionals who were contracted to rider horses for other owners. A middle-class kid paying his own way in the elite levels was something of a rarity.

Kurt wasn’t a fool. He understood that even if he didn’t make the team that things were changing for him. He was now on the radar of those who watched their sport. It might mean the chance for sponsorships and endorsements, which could help finance his career. He had to be smart about how he played this because just being named to the short list could radically change things for him.

When he arrived home, the house was still empty. His father probably got caught up at the garage and he knew that Carole’s shift at the hospital wouldn’t finish for another hour or so. As for his not-quite-yet-stepbrother, Finn was either in class or football practice. Kurt would have time to take a quick shower and then throw dinner together for his patchwork family. Then he remembered that no one has had a chance to go shopping yet.

He’d order something special in. Because they all deserved a treat when he gave them the news.

By the time his father arrived home from the garage, Kurt had an order placed at Breadstix to deliver and the table was set. “Hey sport,” he greeted his son.

“Hi Dad. Carole called… she’s on her way home. Dinner should be here by the time she and Finn get here.”

“Great. We’ll hit the grocery store tomorrow and refill the fridge,” Burt chuckled as he went to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. “How was your day?”

“Good. Had a few group classes and then we met to go over the event results.” Kurt got a pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator and set it on the table.

“How Pavarotti?”

“Oh, he’s fine. I let him spend the day in the pasture. Will probably take him out for an easy ride tomorrow but I want to give him a few days to rest before we start really working again.”

Burt nodded and settled down on the couch as they waited for the Carol and Finn to get home. He looked over at his son and saw immediately that he was a little antsy about something.

“Something up, Kurt?” he asked, not missing that his son seemed a bit distracted and tried not to get concerned. Kurt had a bad habit of trying to hide bad news from him.

Kurt paused before answering, taking a deep breath. “Sort of. It’s nothing bad,” he immediately insisted at seeing the concerned look on his father’s face.

“Okay, so spill. What’s going on?” Burt asked.

Kurt sat down in the loveseat opposite him, his face marked with a soft smile. “We got a call today from the selection committee. About the national team. I made the short list.”

“Which means?”

“That I’m in contention for a spot on the Olympic team,” Kurt explained. “I made it past the first round of consideration.”

“Are you kidding me?” Burt exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “That’s fantastic!”

“Dad, it’s not that big a deal,” Kurt insisted. “The odds are really against me being picked. But it’s great that I made it this far. That means something.”

“No, you’re not downplaying this,” Burt insisted. “This means that they think that you’re one of the best riders in the country, doesn’t it? And they’re right.”

“Hopefully this will help me competitively. Maybe pick up a sponsor or two. That would really help with paying for events. But I’m not at all expecting to get picked for the team,” Kurt maintained. “I’m too young and too inexperienced.”

“Kurt, you’ve been riding since you were seven years old,” Burt reminded him. “That’s a lot of years of experience.”

“Dad, most of the top riders are much older than I am,” Kurt explained. “St. James is one of the youngest and was older than me when he went to the Olympics last time around. This is a sport where experience really counts. I’m not going to delude myself into thinking that I’m on that level yet. Maybe someday, but right now I’m still a kid.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Kurt,” Burt said firmly. “You love doing this and you’ve devoted your life to it. I don’t know anyone who’s worked harder than you in order to complete. Not just training, but working to pay for it. Since you were a kid. That means a lot.”

Kurt shrugged, trying to keep everything in perspective.

“So how does this all work?” Burt asked. Despite having watched his son in competitions for years, he didn’t have a whole lot of knowledge about how the sport worked.

“The selection committee will use this season to make their final decision. They’ll go over the results of all the competitions and see what strengths each riders had and then they’ll make up a final list. So Schue wants me at some of the bigger events with more international competition potential.”

“Smart idea. Show that you can hold your own with the riders that you’d be competing with in Madrid,” Burt said understandingly.

“In the meantime, I’m just going to keep focusing on my training and doing the best that I can,” Kurt stated. “This is exciting, but I can’t let it become a big distraction.”

“Well, you’ve always managed to keep your head about these things,” his father said. “I don’t think that you’re the kind to get carried away.”

“The good thing is that this can really help put me on the radar of sponsors. That can be a big help in helping finance things. I’d be able to complete in more events if I wasn’t trying to cover all the expenses myself.”

“Well, you’ll forgive me if I’m not overly surprised when you actually make the team,” Burt insisted. “Because I know what you can do. I may not know much about riding or how these competitions work, but I know what you’ve been able to accomplish in just a few years.”

Kurt was saved from trying to dissuade his father by Carol’s arrival, and the delivery of their dinner. Kurt very much liked his stepmother, who somehow managed to keep control of the insane asylum that their home became at times. With everyone’s crazed schedules, it was often a miracle that their home didn’t totally fall apart. Carol’s steadying influence was largely to credit for that.

When Kurt told her the news over his selection, he’d hoped that she would be as calm about it as he was. Carole was calm and rational. Instead she squealed with delight and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Oh sweetheart! That’s amazing!” she exclaimed. “You must be thrilled.”

Despite how he’d managed to downplay the consideration, it was hard to remain completely immune to the excitement of his father’s fiancée. “I am… it’s just… I’m realistic. I don’t have the body of experience that the top riders have. Maybe in a few more years I’ll be a more reasonable choice.

“But we’ll see how this all plays out,” he promised. “I’ve got this season to get through and I’m going do my best. Whether or not I make the team this time around isn’t going to define my career.”

He tried to ignore the dubious expressions on their faces about his attempt at being rational. But they seemed willing to let it go. For now, at least.

The door opened, and his stepbrother stepped inside.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Finn expressed. “My last class let out late.”

He noticed his entire family gathered in the kitchen, looking very intent about something.

“Did I miss anything?”

And that started the next round of excited clamoring by their parents, and Kurt found himself slumping down at the table with a sigh. This was going to be a long night.


End file.
